


The right hand that he lost

by roqueamadi



Series: What Happens in Dorne, Stays in Dorne [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 16:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13011777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roqueamadi/pseuds/roqueamadi
Summary: Jaime has a problem. Bronn fixes it.





	The right hand that he lost

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't help writing this. Sorry not sorry.

Bronn was bored.

They were a day into their journey to Dorne and he was already tired of being confined to the small ship. He had lost track of what Jaime was doing, having spent most of the day wandering around above and below decks. He decided he wanted something from his bag, so went down to the storeroom below deck to retrieve it.

Bronn pushed the door open and then immediately halted and turned his back.

“Sorry,” he muttered as Jaime hastily scrabbled to pull his pants up and tuck himself back in.

“I just want to get my bag, don’t let me stop you-” he said, crossing the storeroom with his hand over his eyes, not looking at Jaime. He grabbed his bag and turned back for the door. “I’ll go sit up on deck for a while.”

“It’s alright,” Jaime said in a tired voice, “you don’t have to leave.”

“Are you done?” Bronn asked, lowering his arm and looked over at Jaime, who was now decent and sitting back against the crates. A pink flush had spread over his cheeks, but he nodded.

Bronn raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look done,” he pointed out, glancing at Jaime’s still-tented crotch. “I’ll give you half an hour.”

He turned to go again. “No, it’s-” Jaime cut off.

Bronn smirked. “Seeing my ugly face killed your mood that much, huh?”

Jaime didn’t laugh. He didn’t even respond. He just looked tired and annoyed and _frustrated_. Bronn looked at him a bit more sharply. “Or is it something else?” he asked, curious, turning around fully and leaning on the doorframe.

Jaime wouldn’t look at him. “It’s nothing.”

“You _were_ right handed, of course,” Bronn said thoughtfully.

“I see no reason we need to discuss this,” Jaime said angrily, folding his arms.

“I’m right-handed as well,” Bronn said, thinking it over. “Though, once or twice, my right hand’s been wounded. I tried using my left - it just doesn’t work.” He looked up at Jaime with no small measure of amusement. “You can’t get off, hey?”

Jaime glared at him but wouldn’t answer. Bronn actually felt bad for him.

“No woman to help you either. Not even your sister, by my guess. When was the last time you came? It must have been…” Bronn’s eyes widened. “It must be _months_.”

Jaime’s jaw was set resolutely and he was now staring straight ahead as though trying to imagine Bronn wasn’t even there. Bronn dropped his bag on the ground and took a step forward, closing the storeroom door behind him.

“I have to say, that’s a curse I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Your balls must be aching like nothing else."

Jaime took a deep breath and finally spoke. “I haven’t gone this long since I was a boy,” he said in a rather small voice, and looked up at Bronn with wide eyes, and Bronn felt genuinely sorry for him.

“Why the fuck didn’t you get a whore back in King’s Landing?”

Jaime set his jaw again and looked away.

“Oh, I see, the great Jaime Lannister, too good for a whorehouse. Well, we’re stuck on this ship another few days so there’s nothing to be done about that now.” Bronn sighed. “Listen, I can help you out if you want. Not like I have anything better to do at the moment.”

Jaime looked up at him in confusion. “What?” he asked dumbly.

Bronn shrugged. “I can jerk you off,” he said flatly. “Don’t see any reason why not. Add another ten coppers to my fee and we’ll call it square.”

“Bronn, I don’t - err-” Jaime was genuinely baffled, and his eyes widened even further as Bronn took a step closer to him.

“I guess you don’t know that about me, but I don’t really have a preference. Men, women, it’s all the same to me. Come on, roll over, you don’t have to look at me.”

He knelt down next to Jaime and Jaime looked terrified. “Bronn-” he protested in a rather high-pitched voice, but he didn’t resist when Bronn put a hand on his shoulder and rolled him over, facing him away from Bronn, and lay himself down behind him, propped on one elbow. He grasped Jaime’s right elbow and lifted his arm over his face so that he wouldn’t look.

“Imagine a pretty girl. Imagine your sister, or that big woman. Whoever.”

He reached over and deftly undid Jaime’s breeches and tugged his underwear down and pulled out his straining hard cock. As he’d expected, Jaime had already lubricated it a little with something, but Bronn spat on his hand to help a little bit and then closed his hand around it and spread the moisture around evenly. It was a nice cock, he had to admit. He also noticed that, whatever Jaime thought of him, his cock certainly didn’t seem to have any qualms about Bronn’s rough hand wrapped around it - it twitched upward in anticipation as soon as he touched it. He started to stroke.

Bronn didn’t say anything else. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever fantasy Jaime was building in his head. He just concentrated on stroking, knowing it wouldn’t take long. He did it the way he liked it himself, all the way up over the head and with a twist each time, using a quick, firm motion.

He knew it was going to be intense for Jaime, having gone so long without it, but he probably couldn’t even imagine quite how intense. At first, Jaime had stilled, holding himself rigid, but after a minute he let out a long breath and then his chest started to rise and fall increasingly fast. He made a small noise and Bronn glanced up at his face - it was still covered by his arm. He increased his pace a little, and Jaime squirmed slightly, and Bronn shifted out of the way as Jaime flopped over onto his back again, his right forearm still over his eyes, his jaw clenched tight.

Bronn could see Jaime’s whole body starting to tense up and ensured he continued to stroke consistently and firmly and quickly, and Jaime was now breathing in panting gasps.

He started to come. Bronn continued to stroke, and to his surprise Jaime turned his head into Bronn’s shoulder. He came for several long seconds, spurting a surprising amount of thick liquid over Bronn’s fist, and groaned into Bronn’s tunic. Bronn continued to pump him empty, and was almost reluctant to finish up. Jaime’s cock, just like the rest of him, was very pretty.

Finally he let go and reached for the cloth Jaime had lying nearby, wiping his hand clean and then taking the liberty of wiping Jaime’s cock and abdomen and hips.

Then he glanced up at him, expecting him to be still lying there with his eyes covered, playing out the ending of his fantasy, but Jaime’s arm was no longer over his face. Instead, he was lying there watching Bronn.

Bronn’s stomach flipped over - whatever that meant - and he gave a reluctant grin.

“Feel better?” he asked, looking away from Jaime’s intense gaze and, for nothing better to do, tucked him back into his pants. Jaime didn’t reply. Bronn got to his feet and crossed the room, grabbing his bag again and putting his hand on the door handle.

“Bronn-”

He turned back. Jaime had sat up, and he was still pink-cheeked and slightly sweaty but looked not remotely fucked enough, in Bronn’s opinion.

Jaime opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind, and looked away. “It’s nothing.”

Bronn shrugged and left. He closed the door behind him and leaned back on it a moment, taking a deep breath. Then he went straight to the bilge, a much more hidden and appropriate place for such activities, and performed the same service for himself.

And he definitely didn’t think about Jaime’s pink cheeks and lovely cock while he did it.

Not at all.


End file.
